astonished stare followed by a gleeful chuckle from the little lady, who said something to the man behind the chair so that he went out of the door too. It was then that her eye lighted upon Becky. ‘Come here, young woman,’ she ordered imperiously. ‘I am in great pain and that silly woman who calls herself a nurse took no notice. You have a sensible face; lift me up and look beneath my leg, if you please.’
Becky was an obliging girl; she twitched back the rug covering the lady’s knees in preparation for lifting her and saw why she was in a chair in the first place. One leg was in plaster, the other one had a crêpe bandage round the knee. ‘Which leg?’ asked Becky.
‘The bandaged one.’
It was a pin which shouldn’t have been there in the first place, its point imbedded behind the lady’s knee. Becky made soothing noises, whisked it out, pocketed it and tucked the bandage end in neatly. ‘That must have hurt,’ she said sympathetically. ‘Can I help with anything else?’
The little lady smiled. ‘No, my dear, thank you. You’ve been kind.’ The man had come back with a small case under his arm. ‘I’ll go straight to my room and they can send up breakfast.’ She waved goodbye and Becky heard her telling the porter to let her know…she didn’t hear any more as the lift doors shut.
She went back to the coffee room and was a little surprised to find that her host seemed in no hurry at all. All the same, she bade him goodbye and marched resolutely to the door. It was still raining outside and she had no idea where to go, but she refused his rather perfunctory invitation to stay where she was for an hour or so; he must be longing to be rid of them by now. She went off down the street, walking as though she knew just where she was going, although she hadn’t a clue.
Mr Raukema van den Eck stood where he was, watching her small upright person out of sight. If he hadn’t had an appointment he might have gone after her…it was like putting a stray kitten back on the street after letting it sit by the fire and eat its fill… He frowned with annoyance because he was becoming sentimental and he didn’t hold with that, and the waiter who had just come on duty hesitated before sidling up to him.
‘The Baroness is here, Baron,’ he murmured deferentially.
‘Just arrived?’ He glanced at the man. ‘She’s in her room? I’ll come up at once.’
He ignored the lift, taking the stairs two at a time, to tap on the door which had been indicated to him. It was a large, comfortably furnished room and his mother was sitting, still in her wheelchair, by the window.
‘Mama, how delightfully punctual, and was it very inconvenient for you?’
She lifted her face for his kiss and smiled at him. ‘No, my dear—Lucy was charming about it when I explained and William took the greatest care of me, and after all we didn’t have to leave until six o’clock.’
Her son looked round the room. ‘And the nurse?’
His mother’s very blue eyes flashed. ‘I have given her the sack. A horrible woman; I knew I should not like her when she arrived last night, the thought of spending three weeks in her company made me feel ill, and only a short while ago, as we arrived, I begged her to help me because of the pain and she would not. So I sent her away.’
Her son blinked rapidly, his mind running ahead. Here was a situation to be dealt with and he was due to leave in less than an hour. ‘Where was the pain?’ he asked gently.
‘It was a pin, in the bandage round my knee—at the back where I could not get at it. There was a girl in the foyer—a skinny little creature with enormous eyes; she knew what to do at once when I asked for help. Now why cannot I have someone like her instead of that wretched woman they sent from the agency?’
The faint but well-concealed impatience on the Baron’s features was replaced by a look of pleased conjecture. ‘And why not?’ he wanted to know. ‘Mama, will you wait for a few minutes while I see if I can find her? There is no time to explain at the moment—I’ll do that later. Shall I ring for a maid before I go?’
It was still raining as he got into the car and slid into the early morning traffic, thickening every minute, but he didn’t drive fast. Becky and her companions should be easy enough to see, even in a busy city, but there was always the likelihood that she had gone down some side street. But she hadn’t; she had stopped to ask the way to somewhere or other, that was apparent, for the matronly-looking woman she was talking to was pointing down the street. The Baron slid to a halt beside them, wound down his window and said quietly: ‘Becky…’
She turned round at once and when she saw who it was her face broke into a smile. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she observed. ‘Are you on your way again?’
He was disinclined for conversation. ‘I have a job for you; you’ll have to come back to the hotel, I’ll tell you about it there.’
He waited while she thanked the woman and then got out into the rain to usher Bertie in and settle her and Pooch beside him.
And he turned the car, he said severely: ‘You are far too trusting, Becky—to accept my word without one single question. I might have been intent on abducting you.’
She gave him a puzzled look. ‘But why shouldn’t I trust you?’ she wanted to know. ‘And who in his right mind would want to abduct me?’
‘You have a point there.’ He threw her a sidelong glance. She looked bedraggled and tired; perhaps his idea hadn’t been such a good one after all. On the other hand, some dry clothes and a few good meals might make all the difference. ‘That lady you helped in the hotel—she needs a nurse for a few weeks. She liked you, so I said I’d fetch you back so that she could talk to you…’
‘References,’ said Becky sadly. ‘I haven’t any, you know—and I can’t prove I’m a nurse.’
He had drawn up before the hotel once more, now he turned to her. ‘What would you do if you were given the care of someone with ulcerative protocolitis?’
‘Oh, that’s usually treated medically, isn’t it— they only operate when the disease is severe. I’ve only seen it done once…’ She launched into a succinct account of what could be done. ‘Is that what I’m to nurse?’ she asked.
‘No. What do you know about serum viral hepatitis?’
She wrinkled her brow. ‘I don’t know much about that, only that it’s transmitted in three ways…’ She mentioned them briefly and he asked quietly:
‘The sources?’
She told him those too.
‘And what preventative measures can be taken?’
She had to think hard about those, and when she had remembered all six of them she asked: ‘Are you examining me?’
‘No— You said that you had no references…’
Becky said suddenly: ‘Gosh, how silly I am! You must be a doctor.’
‘Indeed I am, and due to leave here within the hour, so if we might go inside…?’
For all the world as though she had been wasting his time in light conversation, thought Becky. The whole thing must be a dreadful bore for him. With a face like his and a Rolls to boot, he hardly needed
